


Score

by rsadelle



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:12:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler scores, and then scores again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Score

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hishn_greywalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hishn_greywalker/gifts).



> Snippet for unperfectwolf for the prompt, "Tyler Seguin and Brown (Or Fred? Or anyone?) celebrating his ability TO FINALLY SCORE, JFC, in the post season." I have no idea if Fred's internship is paid or not, but unpaid was funnier for story purposes.

The apartment is dark and quiet when Tyler gets home from New York well past midnight. He didn't really expect Fred to wait up for him - Fred has to work tomorrow - but he's still sorry there's no one there to greet him.

He brushes his teeth and gets changed in his own bathroom, and then he slips into Fred's room. Fred doesn't wake up, but Marshall whines at him a little when Tyler makes him scoot over to make room in the bed.

"Shh," Tyler says. He rubs Marshall's head and doesn't try to make him leave. It won't be the first time the three of them have slept in Fred's bed, and he's sure it won't be the last.

Marshall whines at him again, and then settles down and lets Tyler go to sleep.

Fred's very loud alarm goes off at ass o'clock in the morning, and Tyler tries to hide his head under his pillow. "Why?" he moans.

"Some of us have to work for a living," Fred says.

"It's an unpaid internship." Tyler drags his head out from under the pillow enough to look at Fred.

"Still counts." Fred kisses Tyler close-mouthed and soft. "Sorry you lost."

"Still up three-one," Tyler says. "And I scored."

"Mmm," Fred says. "I know. We were watching. It was a sweet goal."

Tyler hooks an arm around Fred. "I want to score again."

Fred half laughs and half groans. "Work," he says.

"We can make it quick." Tyler brings his knee up enough to rub his thigh against Fred's morning wood. "I'll drive you to work after."

Fred groans. "It's never quick with you." He kisses Tyler again, longer, and then rolls away from him out of bed. "Marshall," he calls, patting his thigh. He's mostly naked, and his cock is a hard bulge outlined by the gray fabric of his boxer briefs. Tyler rubs the heel of his hand over his own cock.

"Good boy," Fred says when Marshall jumps off the bed and pads over to him. "Go eat." Fred opens the door, waits for Marshall to go through it, and closes it again. "You're so lucky you're pretty."

Tyler laughs and rolls over onto his back, pushing the sheets and blankets away from him. "I'm so lucky you're easy," he says.

"Easy? You worked hard for this." Fred straddles him and leans down for an open-mouthed kiss that's so good Tyler doesn't care about his morning breath. "Show me what you can do with those talented hands of yours."

"This is supposed to be my reward," Tyler says. He eases Fred's boxer briefs down his hips and over his cock.

"You'll get yours," Fred says. "If you hurry up. Driving me isn't going to save that much time."

"It better be enough." Tyler wraps one hand around Fred's cock and strokes him slowly, root to tip.

Fred bucks into the touch, and Tyler runs his other hand down Fred's back and into the cleft of his ass.

"Oh, fuck," Fred says. "Yeah, fuck." He leans across Tyler and grabs supplies off the bedside table. He squeezes lube onto Tyler's fingers and then gets Tyler's dick out and rolls a condom down onto it while Tyler fingers him open.

"Not enough time for you to go this slow," Fred says.

"You wanted my hands," Tyler says. He's hard enough that it's not a real protest, and he wants Fred on his dick now.

"I want you to put it in," Fred says. "I hear you're good at that."

Tyler groans and laughs, and takes his fingers out of Fred. "I'm the best at it," he says, and he pulls Fred down onto his cock.

"Best I've ever had," Fred says, and he leans down to kiss Tyler before sitting up and setting up a quick, hard rhythm on Tyler's dick.

Tyler does his best to match it with his hand on Fred. He doesn't quite get it, but neither of them care. It's hard and fast and good, and Fred comes all over Tyler's fingers and across his chest just a minute before Tyler thrusts his hips up into Fred and comes so hard he sees stars.

He doesn't get long to enjoy it before Fred gets off him and kisses him quickly. "Work. You better be ready to drive me in ten minutes."

Tyler looks down at his chest. "I wasn't going to shower," he says.

Fred doesn't even apologize for making a mess out of him, and Tyler goes to take a quick shower in his own bathroom and tug on some clothes. It only takes him five minutes, and he spends the next five toasting a bagel and putting cream cheese on it. He wraps it up in a napkin and hands it to Fred when he gets out of his room.

Fred looks at it in surprise, and then leans up and kisses Tyler for probably longer than they can afford if Fred's going to get to work on time.

"All right, you too," Tyler says when Marshall tries to leave with them. He grabs a leash off the hook next to the door; they'll take a quick walk after they drop Fred off.

Fred eats in the car, licking cream cheese off his fingers in a very distracting way.

Fred's not late when they pull up in front of his office, but they're cutting it close.

"Practice today?" Fred asks.

"Yeah, later."

"Get some sleep," Fred says. He turns toward Marshall in the back. "You make sure your daddy naps. And makes dinner."

"Hey," Tyler says, laughing.

Fred brushes his hand over Tyler's fingers on the gearshift. "Then you can show me what else you can do with your hands."

Tyler turns his hand over and squeezes Fred's hand in lieu of kissing him since they're in public. "So many things," he promises.

Fred grins at him. "Be good," he says as he gets out of the car. Tyler's not sure if he means that for him or for Marshall.


End file.
